Changed
by Victoria Chrystallis
Summary: Rose DeWitt Bukater is history. As Rose Dawson begins to start anew, to fulfill her promise to Jack. But when Caledon Hockley comes back to her life, saying that he had changed and asking for a second chance... will she let him come back in her life?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Free

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><p>Rose sat quietly in Carpathia's sunbathed deck, mournfully trying to figure out how she was going to live up to her promise with Jack. How could she possibly live without him now? Sure, she had only met him for three days, but she knew that he was the one—her true love. But why had fate been so cruel to her and Jack?<p>

It was just unfair. Jack should be sitting beside her, sipping hot coffee and admiring the sky that was just like his eyes, not turning into a block of ice in the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean! He should be with her. Hadn't they promised to get off the ship together, ride roller coasters, drink cheap beer and ride horses in the beach? Where were those things now? Gone!

The air blew and she shivered. Last night was the best and worst time of her life. She found the love of her life but lost him instantly. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. Tears threatened to fall. In her heart, she would never forget. She will never forget Jack if she ever tried, that was for sure.

"I don't think you will find any of your people here sir, these are all steerage." Rose heard a crew member say. She hoped that it was not Cal. God forbid that she should see him again!

Heavy, arrogant footsteps fell upon the deck. She knew that it was a first class person by the way he walked. The sound of those footfalls irritated her. The owner of the arrogant footfalls did not speak, just walked around. Rose dared to turn her head and look at the person. She gasped. It was Cal, and he was looking for her!

Was that pain etched on his face?

Rose tugged at the blanket to hide her flame red hair. If he ever caught sight of her hair, by god, he'd find her and drag her back to hell. No, she was never going back to that place where everything was bound by rules and friendships depended on finance and influence. That was not her world. It had never been. She was a free spirit and she was going to be just like Jack—a free spirits, just heading to the horizon whenever he chooses to.

Cal's footsteps grew louder. He was right behind her now. Rose's heart pounded fast. _No_, _don't let him find me, please. _"You, have you seen a lady with flame red hair and porcelain skin? She's 17 and she could be with a blonde lad." he boomed at her.

Rose shook her head and pretended to weep to drive him away. Cal hated drama.

It worked. Cal scoffed and walked away.

She sneaked a look at his retreating figure. She felt glad. She was completely free now that she had gotten away with fooling her devil of a fiancée! Rose smiled.

Her smile was short lived, however. She was free… without Jack beside her. Tears escaped her eyes and she did not wipe them away.

So… what was she going to do with her newfound freedom now?

Well, she couldn't ride the roller coaster alone, drink cheap beer alone and ride a horse alone! And… she couldn't find it in her heart to think about looking for another man in her life, or going back to Cal. That was definitely out of the question! She could try her hand at drawing, just like Jack… or even try acting, she was pretty good at that, wasn't she?

Carpathia docked in New York that evening. It was raining, freezing—but it was no match for the bitter cold in the Atlantic nor could it ever match the coldness that Rose felt. But, the rain gave her hope. Jack was surely in heaven, watching over her. The thought of Jack made her want to jump into the bay and drown.

_What the hell are you thinking? Are you going back on your promise to him? Have you no shame? He died for you! _A voice hissed in her head. Oh, so now, she was hearing voices? Was she insane now, too? Rose continued to gaze at the Statue of Liberty. She felt… she didn't know what she felt. Happy, sad, hopeful, frightened?

"Can I take your name please, love?" a steward asked.

"Dawson. Rose Dawson." she said.

"Thank you, love." The steward moved on to another survivor.

She dug her hands in Cal's coat pockets. Something rock hard hit her hand. She frowned and collected the offending item. Rose gasped. It was the Heart of the Ocean! She thrust it back in her pocket, fearing that somebody from the first class might see it and identify her.

Rose DeWitt Bukater is dead. She died in Titanic. _She is history._

Rose Dawson lives today and tomorrow… until she is an old woman.

And so, Rose Dawson made her way in the busy streets of New York, away from the mayhem in the deck. Inching away from the past… the tragedy of Rose DeWitt Bukater.

Finding free accommodation was easy. White Star Lines had arranged for free accommodations in nearby hotels for all 700 survivors. Of course, the survivors were accommodated according to class. Third class survivors were given free rooms in cheap motels. Rose was not complaining. At least, she was sure that she was very far away from Cal and her mother.

She found herself sharing a room with a widow named Beth. The old woman did not speak much and it annoyed Rose that Beth cried for her husband and children every night. "Oh, Beth, we need to be strong." she told Beth one night. "I lost the man I love in Titanic too."

Beth looked at her like she had said something offending. "That's easy for you to say…you're young, miss. You will find another man. But I am old and I will die alone! We should have never boarded that wretched ship after all! It took everything I had." Beth sobbed.

Rose sighed. "Titanic set me free. I was engaged to a cruel man but then I met Jack when I tried to jump from the back of the ship. Jack was everything to me, Beth. He died holding my hand." She felt the beginnings of a sob coming as well.

The old lady shook her head at Rose. "Young people are so naïve! You cannot fall in love in just two, three days! You're foolish to think that he was really the one meant for you. He wasn't! That's why he was taken away from you, little girl!"

Rose swallowed and chewed her lip. "Then I guess that your husband and children were not for you as well, seeing that they were also taken away from you!"

They no longer spoke to each other after that exchange. Beth had stopped screaming for her family in the middle of the night now. Rose felt bad for saying such things to Beth, but it was Beth who had started it. How dare she say that Jack wasn't the one for her!

However, Beth's words kept Rose up at night.

Meanwhile, Caledon Hockley sat in his suite, brandy in hand, contemplating…

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Hello! Thank you for reading.

I just watched Titanic _again _for the nth time and decided to write a fic about it. To clarify things, I will not be magically bringing Jack back to life in my story, sorry to disappoint you. See, the reason why I wrote this fic is because I'm a Cal Hockley gal. I'm evil, tee hee. _But, who could resist such sauve hotness? _I've been looking for a fic where Cal and Rose actually end up together, but couldn't find one that could satisfy my craving. I will do my very best to keep everybody in character here, but I will be bringing in some minor changes in personalities. Hmm.

(hey I support Jack too, in a way, but I support bad boys more)

Don't forget to leave me a review, _sweet pea_. :)

Oh, and I update every week.

-Victoria Chrystallis


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Alone

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><p>Cal sat down on a chair in his state room, swirling a glass of brandy in one hand while the other rested on his chin. He stared at nothing. His mind wandered to his dead fiancée. Rose.<p>

Was she happy when she had died in the Atlantic, with that piss poor gutter rat?

Had she regretted her stupidity of choosing Dawson over him in the end?

What could she have possibly seen in that sorry excuse of a man that made her go running around with him like that? He wouldn't even be able to provide her with a set of decent clothing! Was it his looks, then? Cal scoffed. If she had fallen for his boyish smile and blue eyes, then she had poor taste. Or… was it possible that it was his artistic talent that had lured her away from Cal? Rose loved those scribbles they called art. God, she was _so_ naïve!

He drank the remaining brandy in his glass and swallowed bitterly. She said that she would rather be the gutter rat's whore than his wife and spat in his face in the most disgusting manner he had ever imagined. Who spat like that? That gutter rat probably.

Oh, he wasn't entirely sad for his fiancée's demise. Mostly, Caledon Hockley was upset because his no-good fiancée had taken the Heart of the Ocean down with her. The necklace had cost him a small fortune, after all. It made him smile menacingly to think that the weight of the diamonds might have made her sink faster.

He shook his head, and he thought that he could buy her love. Ha!

Moreover, his inheritance was on hold again. Why couldn't she have died after they married? She should have just stayed on the boat and survived. But no, she had to jump back to the ship.

Why had she been so curious about those damned propellers anyway! If she hadn't wanted to see those damned machineries, she could have never met the rat!

His friends would have a good laugh when they found out that everything was derailed because of Rose's curiosity for propellers. Not that he was planning on telling them, anyway. Cal poured some more brandy in his glass. _Propellers… for god's sake, Rose… _

He had to admit that it wasn't just the rat's interference which had pulled her away from him. They had only known each other for three months, after meeting in a gala. She had looked so beautiful then. Rose resembled a porcelain doll with her snow white skin, rose red lips, sky blue eyes and flaming red hair. All the men pined for her hand at the dance, but he was the only one she danced with. She would make a perfect wife for him. And so, he proposed to her after three months. Her mother couldn't have had been more pleased.

Rose was 13 years younger than he. Of course their interests and maturity levels were very different. He was interested with business, politics and profit. She was interested in scribbles on canvases and horses. Maybe, that was the biggest gap between them?

Accompanying her in the streets of Paris and Italy were very tiring. She could have looked at one finger painting for more than day, trying to understand the mess's message… meaning. She never got her answers. The fact amused him, in a way. Rose was impassive when they entered boutiques, but they never left empty handed, or to be more precise, without Lovejoy carrying something.

Her behavior was that of a spoiled brat's most of the time, and he was only doing his duty as her future husband to set her straight. She probably loathed him for it.

"_What, you want to have a dozen children?" she shrieked once as they were having tea in the Parisian state room. "Cal… I don't think I…"_

"_Oh don't be so frightened, sweet pea." he smiled, his eyes never leaving her flushed face. The way her cheeks turned red was adorable. "I'm only joking. One or two would be fine by me." _

_Rose cleared her throat and laughed half-heartedly. Cal swallowed and tasted bile._

It could have been his ideals. But she was a woman, and a woman had no say in how he wanted to run their lives. She should know that—certainly, she had been taught that in finishing school? A wife must always listen and obey. That was to be her role. It seemed that she just wanted to be a whore in the end though.

Ruth had shed a few tears for Rose on Carpathia, but stopped as fast as the tears came. Poor, poor Rose, Cal thought. Even her mother did not care much for her.

They had one thing in common, at least. Growing up, Cal had been denied to have parental love and affection that the others had. His father, Nathan Hockley was so busy with the family business and his concubines (Cal was sure that his father had whores). Marilyn, his mother was cold and distant towards him because of the physical abuse she took from Nathan. And so, to cope with his situation, Cal turned to his books and vowed that when the time came for him to marry, it would not be like this.

He laughed quietly. He tried very hard to be the perfect gentleman, but what had Rose repaid him with?

"I could have given you the world, Rose. Why didn't you open your heart to me?" he asked the air, as if she were in front of him. Cal's lips trembled with anger and sorrow, but no tears fell.

The sound of shattering crystal was the next sound that was heard in his room.

"Sir? Sir? Are you alright?" his personal attendant asked loudly from behind the oak door. It was a woman.

"Yes, yes, I'm alright. But come in and clean up this mess!" he yelled.

The door opened tentatively and a petite brunette walked in, carrying a broom and dust pan. Her uniform was immaculately clean for a maid. The girl had an ample bust and a small waist, creamy skin and a pair of jade eyes. Cal swallowed.

"What's your name?"

"My name sir?" she asked dumbly.

"Yes, I asked for your name, are you stupid?"

She blushed, clearly offended. "It's Joanne, sir."

"Well then, Joanne," Cal said slowly as he stood up and walked towards her, "it's nice to meet you." Her jade eyes met his brown eyes. Joanne's eyes told him that she was frightened, and that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to relive Rose's fearful eyes.

"Sir… what are you doing?" she shrieked when he pushed her down on the carpeted floor. Cal only smirked as he grabbed her uniform and tore it off.

_Cheap uniforms,_ Cal thought.

Tears welled up in her pretty eyes and as a scream threatened to escape her lips, he covered her mouth with his drunken one. "If you shout, I just might kill you." he whispered in her ear as he unbuttoned his pants.

_Yes, Rose, watch me take her virtue away as you had denied me yours. _

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><p>Joanne's tearstained face did not make him feel remorseful, instead, he felt triumphant. Cal even felt at ease. He threw her a thick wad of twenties and said, "Get out and never speak of this to anyone."<p>

There was a quick rustling behind him, as the maid tried to make herself look decent, then he heard her run away. It was only then that Caledon Hockley threw himself in bed and fell asleep. As soon as his eyelids met, he saw their faces—the crying little girl, Lovejoy, Rose and Jack. They were all covered in ice.

"You are not any better than a third class man, Cal! You unimaginable bastard!" Rose screamed as pointed her dainty, iced forefinger at him.

"You should be at the bottom of the Atlantic, rotting with me, sir." Lovejoy sneered.

"Uh, Rose is right. You're no gentleman at all!" Jack laughed.

The little girl he had taken to get on a boat and later left to die only looked at him with her big, puffy and glossy eyes.

"No, no! Don't look at me you filth!" Cal screamed as he woke up. He was alone in his dark stateroom. He chuckled darkly, saying that it was only a bad dream over and over again. It was the first dream he has had since his mother passed away a few years ago.

Damn it, why was everybody cursing him in his dreams?

He licked his lips. Of course everybody who knew him well detested him, he was not blind.

That was, surely, the reason behind Rose's refusal to open her heart to him.

She was far too young to understand society's rules. Or him.

On no occasion did she try and see through his actions.

Rose never understood that he really did love her.

A lone tear rolled from his eye to his cheek.

"Oh, Rose," he whispered.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>

**Oho, Cal's a rapist. Hmm… does it fit him? I mean, I could imagine him bedding other women, even if it didn't really say in the movie… Oh come on, evil pretty boys always bed girls. And this was not **_**rape**_**, this was obviously **_**surprise sex.**_** There's a huge difference! **

**So... what do you think about this chapter? Tell me how you feel about what he just did. ( . I'd attack him first! )**

**Thank you for those who reviewed on the first chapter! You all made my gloomy, rainy day a brilliant one!**

**-Victoria Chrystallis**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Nice Weather, Isn't It?

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><p>It's been two weeks.<p>

The obsession and discussion over the tragedy still had not died down. The mourning of those lost at sea was widespread. The grieving families of the unfortunate passengers besieged the White Star Lines headquarters, asking for their lost relatives, for compensation.

Rose Dawson stayed in her bed in the cheap motel. She stayed there and mourned Jack's demise. Charitable groups had visited them, giving away immediate relief and transportation. Beth had already gone back to her home town, Rose did not care to remember where. However, Beth said a few words before leaving their room.

"Young lady, you should live your life as your lover had given up his own to let you go on. I'm sure that he would not be happy to see you wasting away his sacrifice. Be happy. Someday." she said. The door closed.

_How could I be happy, Jack? I miss you so much, Jack… every time I think of you and think of moving on, it hurts. I feel like I'm being cut open and filled with ice every time I try to forget. I couldn't possibly forget you, Jack… ever. _Rose pulled her sheets closer to her and curled up into a ball, trying to keep the tears at bay.

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><p>Perhaps she had gotten too tired staying locked up in the dreary four walls of the motel.<p>

Rose did not know why she had actually decided to walk out of her room but here she was, mixed up with busy crowd of New Yorkers.

A man wearing an expensive looking coat and bowler hat bumped into Rose. "Ouch," she yelped. His briefcase had hit her thigh. The man spared her a fleeting, pompous glance before walking away. Rose stood there for a moment, fuming about the man's complete lack of manners, before the other people started to push her and complain. As she joined the crowd again, she wondered, was Jack always treated like this? Rose frowned.

The sky above was a brilliant jewel tone blue, the sun shone and the wind caressed her pale skin gently.

Suddenly, a weird sensation took over Rose. She suddenly felt excited and scared- like she was a child lost in the big city. But she was no child, she was a woman. A free woman who could smoke and do whatever she wished to. This thought made her smile a little.

She found herself sitting on a park bench in Central Park, watching the children play and shout with utter glee. If Jack had lived, they would have beautiful children together. Little angels with his blue eyes and warm smile... Thinking of these possibilities depressed Rose more, but she couldn't stop thinking about them anyway.

"Excuse me, miss?" somebody asked her.

Rose looked up and saw a man with green eyes looking at her. "Yes?" she said.

"May I sit beside you?" his voice was deep, but gentle.

"Sure," Rose answered and looked away again.

Neither spoke after. Rose continued to watch the playing children, and the stranger seemed to be doing the same. Suddenly, he spoke again. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"

She nodded, "Yes, it is."

"Waiting for you kid to get tired playing?" he asked.

Rose looked at him and said, "Oh, I don't have a child."

His smile faltered for a moment. "I'm sorry. I thought... well, never mind."

She nearly laughed. "Don't think about it."

Then he stood up, "I'm sorry. Alright here's the thing. I happened to see you from across the park and I thought you were really pretty. I work the Metropolitan Opera... I think you should attend the auditions. Who knows? You could be the one my boss has been looking for." He stood and handed her a business card.

"Thank you. I'll think about it." Rose said as she took the card from his hand.

"I hope you consider." he said. "Good day, miss."

As he walked away, Rose stared at the card.

"John James Jones," she muttered.

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><p>Cal was in his stateroom, reading the newspaper, searching for Rose's name in the list of casualties. He sighed deeply as he folded the paper and placed it down on the table. She still hasn't been recovered. Waiting was annoying. He wasn't the most patient man in the world, after all, as he had never been asked to wait.<p>

But Rose made him.

She made him wait for nothing.

He had moved to another hotel shortly after the incident with the maid, and left Ruth with her friends. The woman asked why with her eyes wide as saucers. It was as if the engagement was still on... that Rose was still there. Cal only said that he wasn't comfortable with the furnishings in his room, that's why he was moving. It was really just because he wanted to get away from what he had done. It was stupid, he had not been thinking when he did it. Every night, he felt disgusted of himself for what he had done. He had to get away from Ruth, because Ruth reminded him so much of Rose. The resemblance was just too great.

His father had called him a few nights after he had arrived. The old man did not ask how he was or where, he just asked if he had the diamond with him. When Cal told his father that he didn't, Nathan Hockley screamed at him. "You are such an idiot! Why didn't you take the diamond with you?" Cal swallowed and tasted the bitter hate that he had for his father. He explained that he had taken the diamond in his coat, which he gave to Rose and that Rose did not make it. This calmed down Nathan a little and they discussed how they could get back the money that he had spent on the necklace.

Greedy old man, he thought.

What kind of father was his father? Why wasn't he the least bit concerned about his son's welfare? Why was money more important?

"Because money can buy everything you want to make you happy. Without money, you are nothing and you will be unhappy. With money, you can rule the world." his father told him when he was younger.

His father was wrong.

Rose proved to him that money wasn't everything. She had found happiness in the arms of that piss poor Dawson's arms. And she died in his arms.

The thought made his grip on the shot glass tighten. Finally, Cal stood up, feeling dizzy from all the liquor he had consumed. He walked out into his balcony and looked down below. The people walking below were tiny, and they multiplied. He shook his head. Yes, he was drunk.

And then he saw it. He could never forget that flaming red hair. Even if he _is _drunk, he would always know it. That was Rose's hair. Flame red, curly and thick.

A funny idea dawned upon him. What if she had survived?

What if... she was here, and just changed her name?

He stumbled back into his room and called the White Star Lines.

"Hello. I'd like to inquire if a Rose Dawson had arrived in New York?" he asked.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Okay, so I deleted my first chapter three because 1.) it had too many faults 2.) I wasn't entirely happy with it. I hope you all enjoyed reading my revision. Don't forget to review. :)<strong>

**-Victoria**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Chances

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><p>He headed to the address the officer at the White Star Lines had given him. Cal looked at the establishment just across the street. It could not possibly be a motel! It looked too filthy for a place to stay in, in his opinion. If she really was staying here, God forbid that she was, Cal had to admire her guts. He would not last a night in here.<p>

As he strode in the shabby lobby of the motel with an air of self-importance and grace that was his own, all the people inside looked at him. The way that he was dressed immediately told them that he was from the first class, and they ogled him. Some eyed him with dagger-sharp eyes. He ignored them altogether and strode to the front desk.

"Yes, may I help you?" the attendant asked him, her olive eyes wide with wonder. Had she never seen a person like him before? Cal thought irritably.

"Yes," he said. "I'm looking for a Rose Dawson. The chap in White Star Lines told me that I could find her here."

"Rose Dawson…" the attendant mumbled as she scanned the list. "She's in room 9B. Are you her relative?" There was a tinge of hopefulness in the girl's voice. Cal shook his head.

"No, I'm her fiancé." he said with a smooth tone.

"Oh I see." The girl looked down at her feet and Cal proceeded to the room the girl had told him. It reeked of sweat and unwashed clothes. The floorboards were poorly polished, and a few boards in the stairs creaked. It annoyed him.

Well, his visit better be worth it.

All doors were marked with small, black metal signs.

9B. Here he was. Cal swallowed slightly, and his palms felt cold as he curled them into fists.

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><p>Rose walked up the stairs leading to the Metropolitan Theater. She had done her very best to look pleasant—she had brushed her hair and pinned it, and wore the best clothes she currently had. The dress was nothing special, and so was the coat, but she liked them, despite the worn-out feel. Her boots tapped the expensive marble floor with an elegant rhythm that was her own.<p>

The people she passed gawked at her.

"Who is she?" they whispered. "Is she the lead star for Cyrano?"

"She looks like a porcelain doll!"

She took this as a compliment, and made her feel less nervous.

When she reached the hallway leading to the audition room, she saw that there were many other women auditioning for the role. Rose's hand curled around the business card. All of them were wearing better dresses than her, and their faces looked far more perfect because of make-up. They looked at her without a smile and looked away. Rose sat quietly in the last seat.

The hallway was cold, and filled with hushed whispers.

Suddenly, John emerged from the room, wearing a brown suit. He looked quite tired as he scanned the hallway. Finally, his eyes landed on Rose and he smiled ever so slowly.

He walked towards her, "I'm glad you considered."

Rose looked up at his warm, brown eyes and smiled at him. "Hello, John."

The others watched them talk with jealously and with shock.

"I will see you later, Rose." John said with a smile. "Miss Henry? We're ready for you now."

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><p>Cal stormed down the stairs. Anger and disappointment seethed in his veins. She wasn't opening the door!<p>

"Excuse me," he said with a strained voice. "Rose Dawson is not answering the door."

The girl behind the counter inched away from her seat at his narrowed eyes. "I am not sure, sir. It's quite hard to keep track of all our tenants."

He gave out an exasperated sigh. "The I think you should keep a better eye on your tenants, especially on Rose Dawson. I am willing to pay you if you bring her to me by tomorrow." He left her a business card. "Call my hotel when you have her." And he stormed off the motel, shaking off the disgusting smell of cheapness behind him.

His new body guard, Martin, opened the car door for him.

"Head back to the hotel, Martin, and be quick about it." _I feel like I need a long, hot bath after staying in that disgusting place_ _._

As the Renault made its way in the streets of New York, Cal looked out of the window. The sidewalks of New York is always full of people making their way to somewhere... to somewhere where their dreams and hopes would come true and be fulfilled, to the place where the one they love wait for them. He wondered, if Rose wasn't in the motel, where could she be? Was she wandering the streets alone, like a child, who had run away from her strict parents? How does it feel like for her? Cal chuckled darkly.

Rose was always just like a child- she favored finger paintings by unknown artists and novels that had happy endings rather than paintings done by established names and she barely touched the newspaper, saying that it was too dry, too boring to read. Even though she didn't tell him, he knew that she hated wearing those evening gowns she was required to don. She preferred to wear dresses like that of the one she had worn that night. If she had become his wife, he would buy every gown that she liked, and let her paint.

He wanted her to be happy... but she never was happy by his side, was she?

They were in a funny predicament. Rose was a child and he was her older brother, tasked to look out for her.

He would have been more than happy to take the role.

The clouds covered the sun partly, dimming away the sunshine that made him squint. Cal cleared his throat and turned his attention to the newspaper Martin had placed on the other seat as they passed the Metropolitan Theater. Rose had always loved watching plays.

_He turned to face her. "What would like to become in the future?" he asked. _

_Her flushed face was beautiful under the moon light. It took her a moment before she could reply. "I would be an actress. Or a painter, or a writer... or maybe an equestrian." then she laughed nervously. _

_Cal raised an eyebrow and nodded. "You'll do great in any of those things you chose." Rose smiled a little. "But you would do best as my wife." He smiled, she didn't. Her eyes lost their shine and were covered by her lids. _

* * *

><p>"Rose Dawson? We're ready for you." John said with a kind smile.<p>

Rose stood up and walked towards the room. She was the last one for the day. Inside the room, there was quite a handful of people, all of them looked bored, except for John. They were all well-dressed. She swallowed, and licked her lips as they were starting to feel dry.

"Hello Miss Dawson," a man said. He had a handsome face and heavily-lidded eyes.

"Hello." she replied with a smile.

"We're looking for our Roxane, would be the one?"

Somebody handed her the script, and then a man with a big nose that reminded her of Lovejoy,approached. There were chairs and bandages on the 'set'.

"I would like you to play out this scene, miss Dawson, with our chosen Cyrano, Mr. Hanson." the man said, "Good luck."

Rose nodded. They sat down. She looked at Mr. Hanson. He had brown eyes, fair, somewhat wrinkly skin and a really, really big nose. He held out his hand and looked down, as if he were shy. Rose looked at the script and found that they were playing the second scene.

"I would like to thank you for defeating Viscount Valvert." she said in a hushed voice.

Mr. Hanson cleared his throat methodically. "It's nothing milady."

Rose continued to wrap the bandage around his 'injured' hand, as the script dictated. She let the silence linger for a full minute before speaking.

"I have fallen in love with a man," she said, injecting a hint of shyness.

"Is that so?" Mr. Hanson said, his voice sounded happy. "What does he look like?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "He's handsome."

"Who is he? Maybe I know the lucky lad?"

"I am in love with Christian." Rose looked down at her feet. "But I fear for my love's safety while he is in the company of Gascon Company of Cadets." She finished wrapping the bandage on his hand. "Mr. de Bergarac, may I ask a favor from you?"

"What is it, dear Roxane?"

"Befriend my Christian and protect him." she held his hand, and looked into his eyes.

Mr. Hanson breathes in deeply and looks at her. "I will."

"Thank you, Sir Cyrano!" she said with a big smile.

"That's enough," the man interjected. Rose and Mr. Hanson stood up. Rose fidgeted with her dress.

The silence stretched on for an eternity.

"You look like the Roxane that I had in mind. And your intonations... everything you did was so refined... so natural. _So Roxane._It's as if you really are an intellectual heiress." the man said with a smile. "You are excellent. Did you take acting lessons?" Rose nodded. "I took lessons when I younger, sir." He nodded and approached her. "Congratulations. You got the role. I shall see you tomorrow here at 8 o'clock in the morning."

Rose looked up and almost jumped. "Thank you sir!" she squeaked as the tears cascaded down her eyes.

"You may go now. Take care. John please escort our Roxane out."

John nodded and escorted her out.

"Congratulations!" he said once they were out. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Rose looked at him. "That's extremely generous of you, Mr. Jones, but I can't."

"Oh." there was a hint of disappointment in his voice, but he covered it up with a cheery tone at once. "That's alright. Maybe some other time. Would you be fine to walk home alone?"

Home...

"Of course." Rose smiled.

"Congratulations again!" John said as she walked down the stairs.

When she arrived, the attendant looked at her and asked for her name.

"Rose Dawson," she said with a smile.

"Finally." the girl said, "Your fiancee was here earlier. He was looking for you."

"Fiancee?" she asked. Oh no, NO! she thought.

"Yes. Caledon Hockley, is it?"

"I think you're mistaken, I have no fiancee."

"Hmm." the girl said and Rose escaped to her room.

The moment she shut her door, her heart was beating like a hummingbird. "You're just too smart, aren't you, Cal?" she said to the dark room. She half-expected him to answer and emerge from the darkness. She collapsed on the floor.

She wasn't safe here.

She had to move out... but where?

"Jack... help me." she whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Hello everybody! ^^ I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. I have a few things to clarify before you review. :3 I am not really sure how auditions go for plays because I haven't tried auditioning for one, so if you think this is wrong, I apologize. Also, Cyrano was an opera that came out in 1913- but I really imagine Rose doing opera, so I decided that it'll be a play. (This is so historically incorrect, no? But this is fanfiction!) <strong>

**Sooooooooooo... how did you like this chapter? Don't forget to review! ^^**

**-Vic**

ASDFGHJKL BIRTHDAY


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Too early, too soon.

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><p>New York was still in full swing at midnight—it's not that Rose wasn't aware of that fact before, but she had never been a part of the nocturnal city folks until now. Strangers stumbled their way down the sidewalks, their raucous laughter drifted along with the cold night air. The air sent Rose shivering underneath her coat as she stood underneath the lamp post. In one hand was a bag, with her hastily stuffed clothes and the necklace inside while on the other, was nothing. Checking out in the middle of the night was certainly a bad idea but she couldn't risk waking up to Cal waiting outside her door.<p>

Her eyes were starting to get heavy, and she still hadn't decided where she was going to go. Rose bit her lip.

"I should have waited till morning," she grumbled.

"Hey sweetheart! Lookin' for a good time?" somebody hollered, she rolled her eyes.

Taxi cabs drove past her in a blur of yellow. Somehow, she felt stupid…childish, even… as she stood there, not knowing where to go.

_You're not stupid, Rose, what you're doing is right. _Jack's voice murmured in the back of her mind. It was still so sweet, just the way she remembered it. Rose nodded and smiled a little. _If you had stayed, Cal would find you and drag you back in hell. _

"Hey… look the lady's insane… she's smiling for no reason at all!" somebody said loudly and his group laughed loudly.

_Get away from them, Rose, _his voice warned softly.

Yes, she answered and started walking away.

She should have waited till morning before she packed her bag and left the motel, she thought angrily as she looked at the endless pavements leading to nowhere. Shaking her head, Rose trudged towards the theater, hoping that the guard would let her sleep in one of the benches.

—ᏜᏜᏜᏜ—

The irritating rings of the telephone woke Cal from his dreamless sleep.

"What is it?" he growled, his voice quiet. His room was dark, but the weak beams of the moonlight gave enough light for him to see.

"Sir, your fiancée checked out half an hour ago, I've been trying to reach you since then." the girl's voice said. "She also said that you are mistaken, as she does not have a fiancée. Her husband died in the Titanic."

Cal scoffed. A lump appeared in his throat and he swallowed in an attempt to wash it down, but instead, he tasted bile. "Is that so? Then there must have been a mix up. Goodbye." Slamming the receiver hard, he threw himself on the leather chair and heaved a sigh. He placed his palm on his palm and frowned.

He almost had Rose, but she had slipped away again! The idiot attendant surely gave him away. Yes, that was most certainly it. He stood headed to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of liquid courage. If Rose wanted to play hide and seek, he wasn't going to join in, he had other things to worry about. There were a thousand other women more willing to be his wife than she, he was sure. She wanted to play pretend- the gutter rat was her husband. How immature!

"You're too naive, my darling girl." he muttered as he looked at the city outside the window. Jack Dawson had cast an everlasting spell on Cal's princess, and she wasn't going to let him break the spell. Love wasn't something that emerges out of the blue, so how could a few days have told Rose that Jack was 'the One' she'd spend the rest of her life with? That blonde rat would have left her for another woman once he got tired of her, but Rose never thought of that. Perhaps Dawson thought that she had money to remove him from the slums. Ha!

—ᏜᏜᏜᏜ—

She had reached the theater, and there were a few lights on. There were still people working this late? Rose walked up the stairs and was met by the security guard.

"What's your business here, doll face?" he asked. "You can't sleep here."

"I'm the lead star for Cyrano." Rose answered quietly.

"I bet you are."

"Sir, I am the lead star for Cyrano, how many people have told you this anyway?"

"You're the first crazy person to do so." The guard answered.

"But I'm telling the truth!" Rose could feel her cheeks heating up. Great, she walked all the way here to argue with this pudgy faced man. His beady eyes narrowed as he studied her features. "Even if you are who you say you are, missy, what in the in tarnation is your business here in this time of the night? Aren't you supposed to be asleep, warm in your bed?"

Her throat suddenly dried up. She couldn't possibly tell this stranger that she had run away… well, checked out too early, too soon, anyway.

"Rose?" somebody suddenly called out. Rose looked up to see John.

"Hi, John."

—ᏜᏜᏜᏜ—

John's apartment was moderate in size and everything was in place. The walls were painted a dull brown and the entire place had very few furnishings—there was the couch, dining table, two bookshelves and three mismatched chairs. At the center of the coffee table was a pot of pink flowers. Rose found the flowers a nice touch to the otherwise monotonous atmosphere of his apartment.

"Um, please sit down, miss Dawson. Would you like to drink anything? Coffee or tea, or milk, perhaps?" he asked from the kitchen. Her bag sat alone in the bland, tan couch.

"A nice cup of tea would be nice, thank you." she answered as she settled down on the couch. It was more comfortable than it looked.

There were only two rooms in the apartment, and one was already marked with a name—Katherine. That must his sister's name. Where would she stay? The couch was already fine, actually. She didn't want to bother John by taking his room.

He walked back in the living room holding two mugs. Didn't he have tea cups? Rose wondered stupidly, suddenly being the snotty first class Rose she had shunned. Of course he wouldn't have tea cups, Rose, he's a man! The new Rose countered. John set one of the mugs in front of her and smiled awkwardly.

"So, Rose—what were you doing at the theater in this hour?" he asked.

Inhaling the scent of the tea, she muttered, "I ran away."

A frown met her eyes. She had expected something worse. "You ran away from your home?"

"You could say that."

"But why?"

"Somebody's after me, John."

His emerald gaze narrowed for a moment. "Who's after you, Rose?—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be prying."

"No, it's alright." Rose assured him. "An ex-lover is chasing me because he can't quite accept the fact that I chose another man instead of him."

"I see," John said quietly before drinking from his mug. "But a crazed ex-lover isn't really enough reason to run from home, in my opinion."

"You don't know how vile this man is. When he learned that my husband had died in the Titanic, he's been doing everything to track me down. He wants me to marry him and be his prisoner, John. I don't… I don't want that."

"Okay, that _is_ enough reason to run."

"Hmm." Rose agreed, suddenly feeling lighter now that she had confided her problem with somebody else.

"But… don't you think that being the Roxane of Cyrano could attract his attention, and get you cornered?" John suddenly asked her. "Cyrano could be your stepping stone, but now that I know of this… I'm worried for you, Rose."

Rose stared at the mug of tea and swallowed. He was right, but she couldn't quit the play—it was her only hope and means of surviving in this cruel world independently.

"Let's talk about this when you've rested, Rose. I can see that you are tired. You can sleep in my room, I'll sleep here in the couch."

She looked up at him. "…Thank you John. I'm sorry for bothering you."

He waved a lazy hand and smiled. "Don't worry about it, love. You have sweet dreams, good night."

"Good night." Rose mumbled as she headed to his room. His room was slightly bigger than the room she had in the motel, and the bed was much better with its thicker blanket and fluffier pillows. She fell asleep instantly.

—ᏜᏜᏜᏜ—

**Author's Note:** Ah, finally, I managed to make my lazy fingers type. Sorry for the long delay, reader! My semestral break's almost over and I've been busy too. Anywho—how did you like this update? Thank you for reading, don't forget to scold me about how slothful I am and of course, what you thought about this update. Ooh, and I found out that my story got listed as one of the best Titanic fics of 2011, like two days after my birthday. (it was like, on September 19, haha) -happy dance- Thank you! ^^

Don't forget to review!

Peace.

Victoria Chrystallis \m/


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